


An Interesting Dynamic

by roseredhoofbeats



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: BBC edition, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseredhoofbeats/pseuds/roseredhoofbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irene and Sherlock PWP. Might be part of a larger fic eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Interesting Dynamic

He glares at her with equal parts resistance and desire, his expression equal parts fire and ice. She stares him down and keeps advancing.

“Just tell me to stop if you want me to,” she says archly, her voice silken and perfectly even. She leans over him, her movements sensuous and feline, long arms giving her enough height to keep looking him in the eye, and she draws one leg up to rub against his.

“One word,” she offers. “And I’ll never try again.”

It’s nothing but a schoolyard dare and he knows it is. An empty threat. But he still can’t make himself refuse her.

“I know what your body wants,” she continues. “What do you want?”

Sherlock closes his eyes and steadies his breathing, counting each inhale and exhale. He’d hoped that denying himself the sight of her leaning over him, in nothing but her flimsy lace dress -like he hasn’t seen her in her battle armor before- and her lashes seem somehow fuller, her lips redder, her high cheeks flushed without the help of any cosmetic, would help to calm his traitorous reactions. Instead it allows him to focus even more closely on what her hands feel like and how very close her lips are to his and the sensations travelling along every single nerve fiber become even harder to ignore.

“If you don’t stop me, if you don’t tell me no, right now,” she whispers, her cheek close enough to brush his, “I’m not going to.” Her words are meant to be a warning but instead they set off the spark.

He takes her face roughly in both hands and she gets one fleeting look at those ocean water eyes before her lips are crushed beneath his and she slides both arms under his and grips his shoulders for balance as she straddles him. He groans as her body meets his -oh yes does he want her and the feeling sends a flood of heat through her- and she takes the brief opportunity to slip her tongue between his teeth. He rakes them just slightly over it and she responds in kind and teasingly bites his lower lip, drawing it in, as he pulls her body closer to him, getting her to let out a moan of her own. His hands are under the straps of her gown and she shrugs them off her slim shoulders, not once breaking the kiss. Her hands work at the buttons of his dress shirt, languidly taking her time and brushing her fingers against his skin as she undoes each one with aching slowness. Soon he’s bare to the waist and so is she. She lowers herself down until they are skin-to-skin and risks pulling away to take a look at that face.

His lips are bruised with color, his eyes dilated black with the barest rim of blue-green in the dim firelight and she doesn’t care to waste the time to confirm it but she would bet his pulse right now is more than elevated. She goes back in again, this time starting under his jaw and working her way across his throat, drawing a hand slowly to start on his belt, only to find he’s already making quick work of undoing his trousers.

The tacit consent makes her bolder and she traces circles on his skin, her hands ghosting over him so it’s the barest possible touch but more than noticeable. She shimmies her hips to get out of her slip and in doing so rubs against him and he makes the most delicious growl in that jaguar baritone of his. She hooks her hands in his belt loops and tugs, while he pushes his clothes the rest of the way out of the way and raises his body up to slide his legs out. She tears the shirt from his shoulders and he visciously flips her over on her back onto the floor.

She licks her lips and arches her body underneath his until every possible inch of him is on her and he bows his head as she cradles it in her arms, leaving delicate bitemarks across his shoulder. He slides a hand between her legs and she bites off a shout as soon as he draws one slender finger up her thigh and parts her slit, a chuckle rising low in his throat.

“Thought _I_ was the one supposed to be begging for mercy,” he says, his voice breathless and so low she can feel the rumble from his chest. She flexes against his hand and dips her head to take his nipple roughly in her teeth. He cries out, more from surprise than pain, making him reflexively drive into her, and she laughs as he takes his weight onto his elbows and tangles his free hand in her hair to kiss her as deep as he can.

“Stop thinking and _fuck me,”_ she throws back once he pulls away, her teeth catching on his lower lip. He slowly begins to work in and out of her until his palm is pressed right up against her body, his thumb rubbing in just- above- the right spot- and then he finds it and she throws her head back against the floorboards and digs her nails into his back. He grunts as they start to rut together, every single motion of his body controlled and measured.

“You- cannot be- POSSIBLY- be waiting- for me- to- say-“ she gasps out in between kisses.

“Oh _absolutely_ , Ms. Adler.”

She grits her teeth, refusing to make more than barest of vocalizations even as he slips a fourth finger to join the others and she can feel her walls start to pulse around him.

“I think this is one area where I have just a bit more expertise than you.” She forces her words to come out seamlessly and not as desperate gasps. Almost.

“Hm. Amateur?” he replies, entirely too calmly. He draws his hand from her and sits up and she nearly screams when he’s pressed against her _right there_ but the hand that was tangled in her hair is now pressing on her chest -when the hell did that happen- holding her down, as he reaches for something underneath his pile of clothes.

“You son of a bitch,” she breathes when he produces his silk tie and he winds it around her wrists. She could knows he’s done the knot too loosely and didn’t cross them over the other and could easily escape- but she’s willing to give him the illusion of control if it gets her what she wants.

He goes back to work on her clit and teasingly barely enters inside her slick cunt. He’s still got the one hand between her breasts, pushing just hard enough that she can feel it compressing her lungs. He has the most infuriating unaffected look on his face, but she can still read the signs- sweat on his chest and brow, dripping from his curls onto her skin, his hips rocking in time with hers and he’s pushing back harder than she is, and she smiles as she bides her time. She slips her bound hands over his head and pulls him closer.

“What are you waiting for?” she asks.

“Come for me,” he purrs into her ear.

“No,” she refuses, the smile turning into a defiant, mischievous smirk. “Not until you do.” She brings her legs closer together until he’s trapped between them and she gives a throaty moan up. “Surely you know the biology, Sherlock,” she teases. “I’m a woman- virtually no limit to how much stimulation I can take, and I do this professionally. Your own physiology is going to start-“

She doesn’t need to finish before he takes the hand off her chest to guide himself into her. With a cry of triumph and pleasure, she curls her legs around his back as he starts to thrust, his movements now considerably less than controlled, and she pulls his head next to hers, hands threading through his hair and lips pulling his skin between her teeth. The tie falls free of its own accord -really, she’d have to teach him how to tie a girl up properly- and she drags her nails down his spine. He starts moving faster, more furiously, and she returns in kind. He lets the most delicious moan out, right as she lets herself go and she knows he’s close, and she runs those nails of hers across his arse until she’s got his thigh in her grip, pulling his leg up to give herself a better angle. He pants as he begins to feel the slow heat rise from the pit of his stomach through his body, and he starts to slow on purpose, his thrusts now drawn-out strokes. Irene’s body arches until only her shoulders are touching the floor, trying to rise to meet him but he has enough height on her that she can’t.

“I already begged you once,” she reminds him. “Don’t think I’ll do it tw-“

He dips his body back down until he’s completely encased in her, her arms and legs wrapped around him, her hands clutching at his neck, his hair, anywhere she can find purchase, and he withdraws as far as he can stand before his body takes over and it’s rough and hard and fast and he knows he can’t stop it by the time Irene’s moans of pleasure become screams and he climaxes right as one reaches its peak, high and loud and nearly echoing off the walls.

Their gasps both slow as their movements do, and her limbs go slack. Tremors race up and down both of them as Sherlock rests his head on her chest. He groans as she shifts her legs back and forth, coaxing for one last reaction out of him. He responds by pulling away from her roughly, but his arms give out and he nearly collapses on top of her.

She finally starts to get her composure back and she traces one finger over Sherlock’s fine-boned face, across his lips and circling his eyelids, dragging down those luscious cheekbones. His eyes are closed but he still has to part his lips to breathe at her touch.

With no small amount of effort, he pushes himself up and beside her, keeping one leg over her. “You know,” he begins, “If we’d thought this through properly, we would have moved to the bed.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because then we wouldn’t have to move and I could just fall asleep.”

She laughs, and he does too. “You have a point there.”

“So,” he says after a long moment. “Still under the impression I’m a virgin?”

“Uh, no,” she replies. “Definitively not. Oh, God, the bed really is all the way over there, isn’t it.”


End file.
